Song of the Sparrow
by AbsentAngel
Summary: AU Inuyasha had left his stage career a long time ago and for good reason. He wanted nothing more to do with the spotlight than he did his brother. However, a pair of baby blue eyes may be just the thing to drag him back onto center stage – as a manager


**(:)(A)(:)  
Song of the Sparrow  
Chapter #1  
(:)(A)(:)**

_There is a phrase that begins every fable, every chronicle, and every book - A phrase that doesn't need to be said, simply because it's presence is always there. It is a phrase that is embedded in every child's heart and taken with them through out their lifetime . . . and passed down generation after generation. In every culture, in every language, in every heart, every story begins the same._

Every story begin with a 'Once upon a time'.

Not because every story is a fairy tale, or because every story is told when your heart is still that of a child - but because every story has a beginning . . . Whether it is the story of your life, beginning when your born and ending when you've died, or the story of how you heroically rescued Mr. Kitty from the roof of a burning building. This particular story however, is not of living, dying, or being a humanitarian. This is a story of one thing, and one thing only.

This, is a love story.

And like all love stories, it begins with a boy and a girl . . . and a 'Once upon a time.'

.  
.

"I can't believe you talked me into this . . ."

Miroku only laughed light heartedly at his silver haired friend, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Come now Inuyasha! It's not nearly as bad as it seems!" The man's violet eyes danced merrily as he led his grumpy friend toward the shack of a restaurant. The orange neon letters above the entrance reading 'Mimi's Joint' glowed intensely against the pitch black night. And with the only other light source in the barren county being the stars that night, it was a good thing the sign was as bright as it was . . . even if the flickering J was beginning to give the young man a headache.

Inuyasha gave him a skeptical look, but allowed himself to be led to the foreboding entrance. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was behind that door. . . "Miroku, why in the seven hells did you bring me here of all places?"

Miroku gave an expression of mock hurt, holding a hand to his heart over dramatically. "Why Inuyasha! I'm insulted! Don't you trust your one and only friend to take you only to the best of places? Is there no trust at all!"

He rolled his eyes, shrugging off his friends hand and walking himself toward the entrance and away from his black BMW. "No."

The dark haired man huffed, folding his arms across his chest and pretending to pout. "I'll have you know that this little hole in the wall -"

"There isn't even a wall! There's nothing around us for miles!"Inuyasha exclaimed, gesturing around them. "It's a barren wasteland!" He rubbed his aching forehead as he growled dangerously. "We drove, an hour and a fucking half to come HERE?" His hands flew around the air before a lone finger poked his friends chest accusingly. "What the hell were you thinking!"

Miroku laughed, pushing the offending finger away from him. "This," He gestured to the building. "Happens to make THE best grub for miles around!"

Inuyasha slanted his eyes suspiciously at him. "It's probably the only place for miles around . . ."

Once again, his partner only laughed. Pushing the old wooden door open, Miroku stepped aside and gestured for the other young man walk in with a cheeky smile. "Gentleman first!"

Inuyasha grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'ass hole' before walking through the door and into what seemed him a different world.

The lights were a little on the dim side, but both young men could easily see that the place was packed. The long bar was lined up with unshaven men and their half empty beer jugs to the right side of the building. On the left, waitresses were bustling about to serve the impatient adults and screaming children. But it wasn't the old drunkards or the dusty faced children, or even the tantalizing smell of fresh cornbread and chili that caught his interest. There, on back of the room and behind all the chaos was a stage.

The red backdrop was moth-eaten and dusty, and most of the old light bulbs that lined the edge of the raised platform were shattered and unlit. Even from across the room, Inuyasha could see the deep wear and tear from countless years of use. But despite it's obvious age and tacky set up, he liked it. It had a timeless feel to it - like it was holding on to over fifty years of memories. He couldn't help but think that every single scratch on the wooden surface held some type of story. It wasn't like the stages he had performed on . . .

"Excuse me lads," Inuyasha and Miroku instantly looked down at the old hunched woman below them. Instantly curious about the black eye patch over her right eye. "We only have one booth left - so if you came to eat I suggest you follow this old woman to your seats."

They looked at each other momentarily before shrugging their shoulders and giving chase to the, surprisingly quick-footed, old woman walking toward the stage.

Walking alongside her, the boys mumbled apologies to the many people they accidentally bumped into along their way until Inuyasha could no longer hold in his curiosity. "So . . . what happened to your eye any way?"

Miroku's eyes widened as he punched his friend in the shoulder as their host looked over at them with a raised eyebrow. "YOU CAN'T ASK THAT!"

Inuyasha frowned. "Why the hell not? You were wondering the exact same thing!"

The business man blanched. "But I'm not as rude or inconsiderate to actually _ask_!" He turned to the elderly woman and bowed at the waist. "I do apologize most humbly for my friend here . . . he's never had much tact."

She gave a chuckle, her visible eye dancing merrily. "No harm done lad. It has been decades since any one has asked this old woman such a question!" She gestured toward the empty booth on her right. "Why don't ye sit down and relax while I tell you the story . . ."

(:)(A)(:)

The twenty-five year old men sat rigidly in their wooden booth, watching as the old woman disappeared into the crowd to give their order to the cook - whatever that was. After hearing about how one of the forks claimed Kaede's right eyeball they had been too green in the face to even attempt to think about food.

Miroku coughed nervously into his hand before turning to his friend. "You . . . you don't think she was really telling the truth . . ." He eyed the fork on his napkin suspiciously. "Do you?"

Inuyasha pulled at his stiff collar and loosened his tie before sending a glare across the table. "How the hell would I know? Your the one who brought me to this looney place." He grumbled.

"But the chances of an angry customer throwing his fork so hard that it bounced off the table, hit the ceiling, and then imbedded itself into Kaede's eye!" Miroku blabbered to himself, his eyes wide as he played the mental image over and over in his mind. "I mean! What are the chances?"

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. His friend was way too gullible. "Well she _did_ say that the customer was a world famous body builder." He stressed jokingly.

Miroku nodded as he rubbed his chin with his free hand. "That's true . . . he _was_ a body builder . . . and body builders are strong . . . and he must have been **super** strong to be world famous!" 

The silver haired man slapped his forehead. "Miroku." He growled out dangerously.

"Yes?"

"Stop being so damn gullible! She did not lose her eye to a fork!"

Miroku crossed his arms and pouted. "Well how would YOU know! It's possible!" He defended, his boyish features set in a frown. 

Inuyasha sighed, rubbing his temple once more - vaguely noting that temple-rubbing had become a habit of his ever since he began working with Miroku. "I don't know how you made it as my manager all those years ago . . . hell, I don't know how your a successful manager now!"

The young man breathed on his nails before polishing them on his blue button-up. "Why, it must because I'm so charismatic!" He gave a cheeky smile. "If you were half as charming as myself, why, even you could make a successful manager to the next pop sensation!"

"Feh. Like I would want to be a manager any way." He scoffed, taking a sip of cold water.

Miroku raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"To close to the spotlight. I did get out of the music business for a reason you know." Inuyasha reminded pointedly. "And I don't plan on getting back in any time soon."

Miroku would have responded if it hadn't been for the new waitress that had just laid down their meal - identical plates of buttered cornbread, a bowl of chili, and BBQ ribs.

He slapped his hands together as he licked his lips before giving the waitress an admiring once over. His eyes roamed the woman's body the way his partners roamed the food. Hungrily.

"And you might you be my dear?" He asked charmingly, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You are much more beautiful than the waitress that escorted us here . . ." His eyes glanced to her breast - this time to read the name tag. "Yuka."

She felt her left eye twitch as he continued to admire her body shamelessly. "You just answered your own question dimwit. Now if you don't mind, my face is up here." She growled out, slamming his friends plate in front of him. Muttering a small apology when the silver haired man gave a yelp of surprise when some of the chili spilled on his shirt before glaring at her.

"Watch it lady! Take it out on him." He pointed to Miroku, who gaped at him. "He's the one staring at you like your a piece of meat! Not me!" He glanced down at his shirt and sneered. "Damn it . . . this better not stain." Grabbing a napkin, he began rubbing at the orange blotch as he got up. "Where is the bathroom?"

Yuka pointed across the room and to the side of the bar. "Just ask the bartender, he'll unlock it for you." She answered, feeling a little bad for possibly ruining his shirt. Noticing with pang that it looked like it could be silk. "Look, I'm really sorry -"

Inuyasha waved her off grumbling. "Ya, ya whatever." Trekked down toward the bar, he smirked as he listened to the conversation continuing behind him.

"This is all your fault!"

"Me? Why, my dear Yuka! Is it my fault that I can not help but admire such a beautiful piece of God's creation? I mean just looking at your subtle form makes me want to -"

SLAP!

"You pervert!"

"My dear Yuka! I was only trying to brush of a spider that landed on your bottom! I was only looking out for your safety!"

SLAP!

"IT CAME BACK I SWEAR IT!"

Inuyasha snickered, his mood instantly brightening. Knowing his lecherous x-manager was getting a little piece of torment always brought a smile to his face. Miroku was always too cheery any way . . .

He squeezed in between two grisly looking men to tap on the bar counter, completely ignoring their glares. "Excuse me?" He called out to the bartender "One of the waitresses told me you had the key to get into the bathroom . . ."

The bartender gave him a queer look before digging into his pocket. "You ain't from round here are ya?" He asked, eyeing his attire. It wasn't every day a man walked in wearing dress shoes, slacks, and a silk shirt. Hell, grooms didn't even wear silk shirts in this part of town.

Inuyasha scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "That obvious huh?"

The corner of the bartender's lip curved into a smile as he handed the odd looking man the keys - complete with the plastic pig key chain. "Keep following the left corridor past the kitchen, the men's room is as the very end of the hall." The man stated, gesturing with his hand.

Inuyasha nodded, reaching over and grabbing the keys. "Thanks."

"No problem."

The business man gave a wave over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall, glancing at the kitchen door as he passed. He didn't have to look to know that the room was full of hustling chefs; he himself could hear the shouted orders through the door. However, it was the tantalizing aroma that quickened his steps toward the men's room. He'd be damned if his dinner was cold by the time he got back . . .

(:)(A)(:)

"Dear child! What are you still doing in here!" Kaede exclaimed. "You need to get dressed! It's nearly eight o'clock!"

Kagome continued chopping the carrots on the cutting board frantically. Her ebony hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and droplets of sweat forming on her forehead, she had been working for over six hours in the kitchen today and her work still wasn't done. "I'm sorry Miss Kaede! I just need to finish this one order. Lord, I didn't know it was going to be so busy tonight!"

The old woman swiftly grabbed the cutting knife from the unsuspecting girl. "Hogwash! One of the other chefs can finish the order! _You_ need to go get ready to get up on stage! That's the reason for this place being full in the first place!" She took Kagome by the arm and led her away from the counter. "Now go get ready child!"

Kagome was about to protest, but Kaede beat her to it. "I don't want to hear it child! Go get changed!"

The girl sighed, but gave in. "Yes Kaede." 

The elderly woman smiled giving a dry chuckle as she watched her favorite chef grab her little black dress from the kitchen closet and barreling through the exit and to the only restroom in the restaurant . . .

Kagome tugged on bathroom door nearly yanking her arm out of her socket when it didn't swing open. "Uhg, this damn lock . . ." She grumbled under her breath, fishing for her keys in her coat pocket. Hastily, she shoved the key in the hole and flicked her wrist until she heard the click of the lock before flinging the door open. Without even bothering to scan the room, she proceeded to begin unbuttoning her blouse with her free hand as the other hung her black dress. Her mind unconsciously registered the clicking of the door shutting and the lock resetting itself.

It was the friday night routine for Kagome - cook for the crowd, rush into the single bathroom, change, and then go out and entertain. It was always the same with the exception of a different stage routine . . . which is why she didn't see a certain silver haired man standing by the sink.

"Whoa lady! Get your shirt back on!" 

Kagome nearly punched her face trying to close her shirt when she heard his rough voice echo through the small tiled bathroom. Turning so fast towards the voice that she lost her balance and toppled backward, her legs sprawled out in front of her as she stared at the man in mortification. "W-what are you doing here!"

**(:)(A)(:)**

Not a very long beginning . . . I was originally going to make it longer but was convinced that nine pages was long enough for a beginning. Ahaha. You can all thank Kagome093 for this being put up. She's the one who requested it. P

I plan on this fic being on the shorter side . . . but my imagination tends to run off with me so we'll have to see what happens!

Read and Review!


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